


Black Heart

by carlyraejepsen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Comedy, Excessive Swearing, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Oneshot, Which Ear Is The Gay Ear, teenagers are idiots, this might be the dumbest thing i've ever written. i love it, workplace drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carlyraejepsen/pseuds/carlyraejepsen
Summary: It's too early in the morning. An incompetent group of interns takes an inconveniently long coffee break. Their supervisor may or may not be banging Lance's metaphorical wife.





	

“I can't believe this,” Lance announces the very second he walks into the break room. “You guys, I think I’m getting cucked.”

Hunk immediately chokes on his coffee, but Keith just rolls his eyes. He’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, all emo as usual. “It’s too early for this," Keith complains.

“What— _what_?” Hunk tries to remember what the word even means. “How did you get cucked?”

“You know that girl I’m in love with? The one who works upstairs in financing?”

Keith scoffs. “Reynalta? The British one? She’s, like, ten thousand years old. That’s _gross_ , man.”

“Hey, she _just_ turned thirty-five! Her birthday was last week. You didn't even sign the card, you disrespectful asshole.”

Hunk’s still confused. “Who’s getting cucked by Reynalta?”

“That’s her last name, that’s what her inferiors call her,” Keith elaborates. “Her real name is like, Alyssa or something. Alana.”

“It’s _Allura_! You guys are dicks,” Lance huffs. “Allura’s my one and only. We’re _totally_ a thing.”

“Pretty sure you’ve never held a conversation with her, but okay,” Keith says, obviously condescending.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Lance says loudly, and Hunk’s just worried that they’ll get in trouble for causing a disturbance again, “Get this: I was walking to go give Shiro the—”

“What does this company even fucking _make_?” Pidge interrupts, furiously typing on their laptop. They’re drinking a can of Monster at nine o’clock in the morning, so they must’ve had a late night.

Hunk looks over their shoulder, thinks for a moment. “To be honest, I don't have a damn clue. Stop stressing yourself out for a sec, dude, it’s not called the _break_ room for nothin’.”

“Can't take a break, Lance just dragged me here. I gotta format this entire webpage by noon because apparently everyone in this branch is fucking _senile_ and I'm the _only_ person who can read HTML. How fucked is that?”

“A _hem_ ,” Lance articulates, and Pidge just quickly gives him the middle finger and resumes. “As I was saying. I was gonna give Shiro the numbers from yesterday’s supply inventory, and so I go up to his desk, and then _Allura’s_ there, just casually chatting him up. And she’s totally _flirting_ with him! She’s, like, playing with his tie, and fixing his hair back, and Shiro’s just sitting there in his desk, laughing like an idiot at everything she says. They had chemistry like crazy.” He shrugs. “I’m, like, _ninety_ percent sure they’re banging. Meaning that Shiro is currently cucking the hell out of me.”

“You have to be _married_ to be cucked, though,” Hunk remembers, sipping his coffee. “Are you married to Allura?”

“In theory? Yes.”

“Okay, do you have a certificate of marriage?” He nods forward, “Can I see them papers?”

“Fuck off. Okay, so I’m being _metaphorically_ cucked here.”

“By a woman seventeen years older than you who has no idea who you are? Sure.” Keith grabs a plain mug and a teabag from a high cupboard, carries them over to the hot water dispenser. “And there is  _no_ way they’re banging.”

“Yeah, are you sure they aren't just friends? Isn’t Shiro…” Hunk scratches his nose, “Isn’t he… Y’know…”

“ _Gay_?” Lance snorts. “Hunk, why do you think Shiro’s gay?”

“‘Cause he’s got the one earring! I-I thought that was the gay signal or something, I—”

“Ah, yes, the _Gay Signal_ ,” says Lance grandly. “They light it up in the sky when they need Gayman to show up in the Gaymobile and fight crime.” Keith gives a sharp laugh, then tries to play it off like he thought it wasn't funny.

“Hey, I never said I was an expert!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Hunk, _I_ have one stud earring, and I'm _definitely_ not gay,” he assures him, pointing to the black stud on his right ear. “As long as it’s not the gay ear, it doesn't mean anything.”

“Well. Which ear is Shiro’s on?” Pidge asks without looking up.

Lance gives Hunk an inquisitive glance, and they both have the same idea. Hunk puts down his coffee, and Lance leads as they walk out of the break room, down the long hall of cubicles to Shiro’s desk. It’s busy yet quiet, nothing but polite chatter, phones ringing, keyboards clicking. The copy machine sputters and groans in the copy room, signaling that Hunk’ll probably have to fix it again at some point today.

There he is, at the desk at the end of the hall. Takashi Shirogane. A thirty-something-year-old war vet. Head of Human Resources at Voltron Co., and supervisor of interns. A kind and handsome man.

Shiro seems to be grinning a bit as he types— one-handedly like always, since his other arm is prosthetic— and his tie is askew. A small round diamond flashes subtly on his left, _left_ ear. It’s on his left ear. He’ll remember that. Then Shiro looks up and notices them, clears his throat. “You two need anything?”

“We just—”

“Just wanted to say good morning,” says Lance. “Nice weather today, huh, boss?”

Shiro looks out the window behind him. It's raining even harder than it was on the bus. “... Tuck in your shirt, McClain,” He says suspiciously, and his eyes shift back to his computer.

“Yessir,” he nods, thoroughly overenthusiastic. He then turns, power-walks back towards the break room, tucking his dress shirt into his jeans. Hunk realizes that Lance had worn skinny jeans to work. His best friend can be a real douche sometimes.

“It’s the left ear,” Lance hangs off the doorway and proclaims to Keith and Pidge. “Shiro’s got his left ear pierced.”

“And you have your _right_ ear pierced,” Keith says, squinting.

“So?” asks Lance.

“So one of you is gay.”

Lance’s face goes completely blank for a long moment.

“... Lance?”

“Am _I_ gay?” Lance whispers hoarsely, and Pidge snorts. He snaps out of his trance and goes manic, “Pidge, Pidge, look that shit up _right_ now, which ear’s the gay ear? Look it up look it up.”

“I am,” They laugh, and there’s this big pause as the results load. Lance has his fingers crossed, and strangely, so does Keith. “... Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Right ear’s the gay ear.”

“I’m _gay_!” Lance buries his face in his hands, bows down at the back as if defeated, voice genuinely distressed. “Jesus Christ! I was gay all this time, fucking _shit_!”

Keith, Hunk, and Pidge are all losing their minds laughing, Keith biting down on his sleeve to keep from making too much noise. Hunk pulls Lance into a hug, patting his back. “We all accept you— we— Lance, we love you no matter _how_ gay your ears are,” he laughs, and Pidge is practically _coughing_ profanities—

“No, hold on, h-hey, Pidge, hey, what does both ears mean?”

“Both ears doesn't mean anything,” They wheeze. “It can— it can just mean anything on a guy.”

“Can both ears mean bi?”

“Sure—”

Lance squirms out of Hunk’s grip, bolts out of the break room and returns swiftly with a stapler. “Do it,” he says, handing the stapler to Pidge, “do it, do it, do it.”

“Ohoh, _fuck_ yes,” Pidge practically pulls it from his hands, shutting their laptop, standing up and sitting Lance down in a chair at the small table. They put the stapler at Lance’s left earlobe, and everyone huddles around the two of them in excitement like a Renaissance painting. “Okay, I’m gonna do it on three, no screaming or we’ll get in trouble. Keith, get some paper towels. One, two—”

Lance reaches out for Hunk with his other hand, and he takes it, squeezing hard in preparation, “Just do it quick just do it quick Pidge oh my god just—”

“Am I interrupting something?” Says a very sweet voice, and everyone freezes. Their heads snap towards the doorway.

There’s a _stunningly_ beautiful woman standing there, staring incredulously at the bizarre scene. She’s got this incredible white-blue hair tied up in a fluffy bun, and these eyes that are so blue that it’s almost _surreal_ , and they juxtapose with her dark skin tone and match her cornflower blazer and pencil skirt. She must be at least a good six feet tall.

“N-no,” Keith is the first one to break the silence, placing the paper towels back on the counter. “You’re fine, Reynalta.”

Whoa. There she is in the flesh. Allura smiles gently and enters, and the whole group starts to unfold. Pidge pulls the stapler away, places it down on the table and opens their laptop up again. Lance just slumps back in his chair and stares at her with wide eyes, like he can't believe what he’s seeing. Hunk lets go of Lance’s sweaty hand and feels almost starstruck, like he’s seeing a celebrity.

She asks Keith to move over in a very lovely accent, grabs a mug and pours herself a cup of coffee from the pot underneath. When she turns around, she seems to feel everyone's eyes on her.

“... Do your parents work here?” She asks Hunk politely.

“Oh, um. N-no, ma’am, sorry.” He pauses. “Why?”

She looks confused. “I assumed that the only reason for people your age to be here would be due to some sort of bring-your-child-to-work day event.”

Lance makes a soft noise of objection, but Pidge just laughs. “We’re summer interns,” they explain. “West Desert High offered school credit for it.”

“Are you paid?”

“Nah. But we can put it on college and job apps and stuff.”

“Oh! How sweet,” Allura smiles and presses her free hand against her cheek, and her nails are long and painted pink, and Hunk’s heart almost wants to shatter, she’s so _beautiful_. “Keep up the good work, everyone,” she says, walking out with her cup of coffee, heels clicking on the linoleum. Lance barely manages a dazed two-finger salute, blushing beet red.

Then, there’s familiar heavy footsteps down the quiet hall. Hunk could recognize them anywhere. It’s Shiro, and he’s gonna give them all hell for being loud. And—

And in the middle of the doorway, where all four can see, Shiro runs _right_ into Allura. There’s the initial collision, and then Shiro makes a startled noise and falls back, and then Allura _yelps_ , leans forward to catch him in her arms, effectively _drenching_ Shiro’s torso in black coffee.

“Oh, god, are you _okay_?” Shiro asks, paying no mind to the coffee or the interns or anything, just staring into her eyes. “I am _so_ sorry, I, I wasn't looking—”

“It’s fine, are _you_ okay? I— your _shirt_ —”

“The coffee wasn’t hot, I’m completely fine,” he assures her, smiles a little. Allura doesn't smile, though; Allura’s glancing downwards, where the coffee has made Shiro’s dress shirt transparent, and the linen clings to his chest and holy fuck, Shiro is _ripped_.

There’s a beat, and there’s _tension_ when they look at each other again, holding each other in the middle of the hall, and it’s like the four of them are watching a soap opera or something. “I should help you clean off,” she states. “It’s my fault you’re like this, I’ll just… go and help you wash up.”

“Th-thank you,” Shiro nods too many times, eyes wide. “You’re too kind, Reynalta.”

Then she smiles, and she takes him by the hand out to the door across from the break room. “That’s _Allura_ to you,” she giggles, holding his chin in her hand, and the door shuts.

And then nothing. Phones ringing, printers printing. “That’s not the,” Hunk feels the need to point it out, even though they’d all just seen it themselves. Pidge’s jaw is hanging open. “That’s, not the bathroom, that’s the copy room. That’s. There’s no sink in there, that’s the _copy room_.”

“Holy shit,” says Keith, still in disbelief. “They… Oh, what the _fuck_.”

Pidge leans across the table, taps Lance’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy, you okay? You good?”

Instead of answering, Lance inhales, swiftly tips his chair over. He lands flat on his side against the tile with a thwack.

“ _Lance_!”

“... It’s not even noon, and I’m already a gay cuckold,” Lance croaks pathetically from the floor.

It’s _definitely_ too early for this.


End file.
